CHAPTER IV

A PRISONER ON THE MYSTERIOUS SHIP

AT the moment of impact Gerald strove to ward off the oncoming vessel with the unwieldy oar, but the blade found no holding-place against the wet, heaving bows of the leviathan of destruction. Then, with the carrying away of the mast, a block hurtling through the air struck him a terrific blow over the head. Thousands of white lights flashed across his vision as he found himself lying in the already flooded cockpit; yet in his state of partial insensibility he was dimly aware that Jack had seized him round the waist.

With a powerful heave Stockton literally threw his friend into the dinghy, which had meanwhile floated alongside the yacht. Then, springing into the little cockleshell, he whipped out his knife, and with a swift sweep severed the painter. Not a moment too soon.

The colliding vessel had already stopped, and was gathering sternway. The withdrawal of the sharp, wedge-shaped bows from the shattered yacht caused the water to pour in with redoubled violence, and in a smother of bubbles and foam the _Playmate_ plunged downwards to her last resting-place.

Jack Stockton seized the oars, which fortunately had been left in the dinghy, and rowed desperately towards the craft that had been the cause of the disaster. Already she was a mere blur in the fog; once lost sight of, the position of the two occupants of the dinghy, adrift in mid-Channel without food or water, would be perilous in the extreme.

Beyond the first hail perfect silence had been maintained on board the huge grey vessel. As Jack gradually gained on her--for the engines had apparently been reversed only for a few revolutions--a rope was flung dexterously over his head. This he made fast to the dinghy's bow-ring, and in absolute silence another coil descended from the lofty fo'c'sle.

Deftly Jack passed a bight round his friend's body just below the arms, and like a sack of flour Gerald was hoisted upwards. This much Tregarthen remembered, though but dimly, and on gaining the deck he lost consciousness.

When the young sub-lieutenant opened his eyes he found himself lying in the uppermost of two bunks in a small yet conveniently arranged cabin.

"Where the dickens am I?" he murmured, drowsily.

He sat up, and at once discovered that the pyjama suit he was wearing was not his own; then he became aware that his head was throbbing painfully, and on raising his hand to the aching place his fingers encountered a strip of plaster.

Then the details of the collision flashed across his mind, and the anxious question rose to his lips: "Where's Jack?"

Steadying himself by grasping the rounded edge of the bunk, Gerald leant sideways. The effort nearly caused him to lose his balance, but the result of his investigations showed that the lower bunk was unoccupied.

For the space of quite five minutes the injured officer lay still, striving to collect his thoughts as to where and when he last saw his late companion.

Above the centre of the top bunk was an open scuttle, through which the salt-laden breeze whistled like a youthful whirlwind. From where he lay Tregarthen could see that the thickness of the vessel's side at this opening was at least 7ins.--a truly enormous size for the plating of any but a powerful war vessel, and even then it was unusual to continue the armoured belt so far above the water-line.

Curiosity prompted the sub-lieutenant to essay another change of position. This time he met with better success, and was able to look through the narrow, circular aperture.

His eyes dilated with astonishment. The fog had completely vanished, and the sun shone brilliantly from an unclouded sky upon the deep blue waters. But the change in the atmospheric conditions was not the cause of the young officer's surprise; it was the apparent motion of the water.

Without the faintest suspicion of a bow-wave--at least as far as Tregarthen could judge--the huge vessel was tearing through the sea at a terrific rate. Taking into consideration the height of the scuttle above the sea-level, Gerald came to the conclusion that the craft was a cruiser of the largest type, yet in spite of her size he estimated her speed at not less than forty-five knots. The _Calder_, lightly built as she was, could not attain that rate, her greatest pace being a good thirty-eight knots. And with this extraordinary speed there was a total absence of vibration or noise, save the howling of the wind caused by the vessel's own motion, while the faint pulsation of the engines, that had first betrayed her presence in the fog, had entirely ceased.

Then Tregarthen made another discovery. The mysterious vessel was, as far as he could judge by the position of the sun, heading nearly south-west. That meant that, willing or unwilling, he was being spirited away from the shores of Old England at a phenomenal speed--but whither?

Gerald next proceeded to make a systematic investigation of the cabin; but there was nothing to indicate the nationality or nature of the vessel that had effected his rescue. He had an idea that she was a British craft, as the only hail was given in his native tongue; but he had heard the officers of German and Dutch vessels give orders in perfectly good English to pilots and boatmen in home waters.

Besides the double bunks there were a portable wash-hand basin, a bath slung from the ceiling, a small chest of drawers, a couple of cane-seated chairs, and a looking-glass. On one of the chairs were his clothes, in a perfectly dry condition.

With considerable effort he managed to dress; then, staggering towards the door, he threw it open.

To his great surprise he saw a sentry standing without. He was a tall, burly-looking sailor, dressed in a uniform somewhat resembling that of a British seaman, although the blue jean collar was of a deeper shade, and black tape replaced the white ornamentation worn in the Royal Navy. The man had no name on his cap-ribbon, but a device representing a leaf upon his right arm. A black leather bandolier encircled his waist, a cutlass taking the place of a bayonet. He carried "at the slope" a rifle of a similar pattern to the latest form of Lee-Enfield, except that the stock was terminated 6ins. from the muzzle, which was enclosed at that end by a metal cylinder of about 3ins. in diameter. A portion of this cylinder was flattened, apparently for the purpose of using the sights.

This much Tregarthen took in at a glance, but with a peremptory gesture the man indicated that all egress was debarred. There was nothing to do but to obey the mute instructions. Gerald retreated to the cabin, and immediately he heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock. He was a prisoner.

Gerald--too much astonished to concentrate his thoughts--sat down in complete bewilderment. The tragic events of the ill-fated cruise, the mysterious nature of the vessel that had rescued him, the unsolved problem of his friend's disappearance, and finally the ignominy of being held in captivity, crowded in upon his already aching brain. Then an irresistible desire to smoke came over him. He felt in his pocket for his pipe, till, remembering that he had left it in the cabin of the _Playmate_, he bethought him of his cigarette-case, fervently hoping that its contents had escaped damage from the sea-water. To his surprise he found the case filled with a different kind to those he was accustomed to. Evidently his captors meant to allow him every comfort.

Without compunction he began to explore the contents of the chest of drawers. With one exception they proved to be empty, and, what was more, evidently new and unused. In the top drawer, however, was a case containing a brush and comb and shaving materials--also in a perfectly new condition.

In the midst of his investigations the door was unlocked, and, with a preliminary knock, a little, alert-looking man attired in a neat and well-fitting uniform entered.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Tregarthen," he exclaimed. "I trust you are feeling better? My name is White, at your service, and I am the senior surgeon on board."

"Thanks, sir, I am feeling nearly fit. But might I ask what ship is this, and why I am kept under lock and key?"

The doctor shook his head deprecatingly.

"I regret I can give you no information on that point. You must, I am afraid, wait till you have seen the captain."

"But my friend--is he safe?"

"He is safe."

"And----"

"No more questions, if you please, Mr. Tregarthen," interrupted the surgeon, firmly, and in a manner that betokened the uselessness of further inquiries. "Meanwhile, before the captain sends for you, some light refreshment will doubtless be beneficial. I am pleased to see that you are little the worse for your misfortunes."

So saying the medico withdrew, and a steward silently entered the cabin, bearing a tray on which an appetising meal was tastefully spread.

This man was even more unsociable than the doctor, and with as few words as possible he left the cabin, the door being again locked.

Left once more to his own reflections Tregarthen acknowledged that the mystery was almost as dark as before. He had made two discoveries. Firstly, Jack Stockton was safe on board, though possibly a prisoner like himself. Secondly, the ship was more than likely manned by a British-speaking crew, but whether British or American Gerald was unable to say.

At length the sun sank beneath the horizon--a red ball of flaming fire in an indigo sky.

Gerald glanced at his watch. It was a half-hunter, and the well-fitting case had not admitted any water during his immersion The hands pointed to a quarter to seven.

Here was another mystery. He knew full well that at home the sun set at 7.15 p.m. The ship's course was, as far as he could judge, south-west. How, then, could the apparent discrepancy be accounted for? Perhaps his watch was wrong.

Anxiously Tregarthen waited, listening intently for the ship's bell. Punctually at seven--the second hour of the second dogwatch--came the dim sound of the bell--_ting, ting--ting!_ Two sharp blows followed at a longer interval by another. His watch was right, then, and since the course was not easterly he could only conclude that by a hitherto unattainable speed the mysterious vessel had already gained a latitude corresponding to that of the Bay Of Biscay.

Ere the short twilight deepened into night the cabin was brightly illuminated by the warm glow of a pair of electric lights, one at the middle of each bulkhead.

"Well, there's nothing to amuse myself with, so I might as well turn in," thought Gerald, for the excitement of the day, coupled with the fact that he had had but a short spell of sleep the previous night, was beginning to tell. He was on the point of divesting himself of his clothing when the door was unlocked, and a young man evidently an officer, entered.

"The captain wishes to see you, sir," he announced, bringing his hand to his forehead with professional smartness.